


Little Caesar

by RyMagnatar



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alt timeline, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sad Eridan, Sadstuck, a little stabbing, and kind of sad, and some bleeding, and stuff like that not much tho, davechick egg thing, hella amount a godtiers, implied temporary death, its really cute, no one is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyMagnatar/pseuds/RyMagnatar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the bucket comes spiraling out of the girl shaped hole in the universe, a little orange card comes tumbling with it. You, Eridan Ampora, are the only one who notices the card and the strange little egg that's trapped inside of it.</p><p>But you can't keep a secret that keeps on growing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Caesar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrose/gifts), [kattenprinsen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattenprinsen/gifts).



Your eyes widen as the bucket spirals through the girl shaped hole in space. You aren’t the only one who hisses out a curse at it falls, spinning down through the air and headed down towards Karkat’s head. All of you stare in horror as it whirls down towards the group. As the spin of the bucket slows, just a little, something orange and flat comes fluttering out.

While the others are occupied with watching the bucket hit Karkat in the face, you slink over and reach up, catching the orange...card? You blink in surprise as you realize it’s a card from a sylladex. On the back someone wrote the words: heres a gift from davesprite too! And the picture itself is of an orange egg with a few large red spots on it.

You tuck it away, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one saw you. They haven’t. They’re plenty busy with the folded up whatever in the bucket. You tighten your scarf around your neck and sidle back to the edge of the group, looking around at them. But it seems that, once again, so long as you aren’t making any sort of fuss over anything, there is no attention spared for you.

Just this once, you don’t really mind that.

You can’t get away and alone soon enough. Curiosity burns away at your guts, pushing its way through you. The moment you won’t be seen you’re running off to your own rooms and throwing yourself down onto the nearest pile of shitty wands that you have. One digs into your hip and you wince, digging down and shoving it aside before you open your captchalogue and pull out the strange new card.

You release the egg into your palm and with it comes a little note with horribly scribbled letters saying: keep it warm for a bit bro its about ready to hatch. dont let any stupid troll or something imprint on it first or youre pretty much fucked. With a sneer, you flick away the piece of paper. Keep the egg warm, huh? You tug at your scarf and wrap it gently around the egg, cradling it in your hands.

Minutes pass with you staring down at this egg and waiting. You can feel slight movement inside of it, can hear something inside, but as of yet nothing.

Your eyelids have begun to droop when you hear the first crack. At first you think you’re hearing the creak of the wands beneath you when it happens. Scrambling to a sitting up position, you hold the egg carefully and watch. A piece of shell cracks and pushes up. You suck in your breath and watch with ever widening eyes as the shell is pushed back by tiny little orange fingers. “Fuckin’-,”

A little head lifts up, orange and fluffy, with a bit of pale shell on top and two little orange eyes blink open and look right up at you. You stare back, mouth open in shock, speechless and barely able to even breathe.

It fucking _peeps_ and then starts wriggling its way out of the hole until the entire few inches of winged orange person-bird is tumbling over the side of the shell and into the scarf around the egg. Finally sucking in a proper breath, you get rid of the remnants of the egg and gently scoop the creature up into your fingers. Tiny hands circle around your thumb and it peeps again at you, big orange eyes blinking slowly and little wings fluttering uselessly. With your other hand you peel the bit of shell from the top of its head and run a curious fingertip down a wing. It flaps uselessly under your touch and the little bird-human peeps again.

Your bloodpusher clenches painfully in your chest and you are smiling, smiling, smiling, unable to stop yourself from doing so. The little tail curls around your pinkie finger like a the tongue of a flame while it flutters its wings and bats weakly against your thumb. You chuckle softly and run your fingers over its hair. “You will be my little wriggler, oh yes. And I will call you Caesar!”

Caesar peeps, mimicking the smile you give it- no _him_. Caesar is a boy’s name after all. He smiles at you and you bring him up to rub against your cheek. Fuckin’ _yes_. Little Caesar is exactly what you were missing from your life. You just didn’t know it until now.

There is no way that this can go wrong.

* * *

Except everything.

Everything can go wrong.

A little less than an hour after his egg hatched, with you laying on your back and little Caesar tumbling around in your fingers, he begins to call out louder, little insistent peeps. In worry you sit up and try to get information from the little wiggler. “Cae, what is it? C’mon lil one, the fuck is wrong with you?” You had been gentle, more gentle with him than you have with anything else in your life, just to keep him safe.

With him curled in your palm, he rubs at his belly and then his mouth with his tiny little fingers and peeps meaningfully at you. “Oh. Fuck.” You sigh, “You’re hungry aren’t you?”

Another peep, this one is coupled with a nibbling on your thumb. You sigh and fix your scarf around your neck. Sliding little Caesar between your neck and your scarf, you tuck it around him and pull the collar of your cape up around you. “Stay put, I’m goin to go get you somethin’ to eat and we gotta make sure no one catches sight a you.”

His reply was muffled by the cloth and you could feel him burrow against your neck, fluffing his tiny feathers and making soft peeps. You get up from your pile and go over to a mirror, grinning when you see his small head peek over the side of the scarf and two red eyes blink. He gives a soft peep and you tap the top of his head gently. “You keep hidden now, Cae, just like I’m tellin’ you. Hide your little face.”

You take his peep as one of agreement and sweep out of your respiteblock. Your cape swirls behind you as you walk and you can’t help but smile because of the little bundle of warmth against your neck.

Sneaking about is harder than you expect. With the two humans here now too, this place is practically crawling with inquisitive, snooping little eyes- or in the case of Terezi- noses.

* * *

Fortunately, when you enter the meal preparation block, there is no one there. For several confusing minutes, you look in each of the cabinets and within the fridge as well, attempting to find something that sounds appropriate to feed a little bird human creature. Eventually you settle on grubloaf and half a dozen human food things in an array of packages, including something titled ‘gushers’.

Food collected, you carefully organize it into your sylladex and set about getting something for yourself to eat. Halfway through your food prep, you’re slipping bites of things to Caesar, chuckling when he either peeps for more or fluffs out his feathers in shock at the taste.

“What’s so funny with you, huh?”

The voice jerks you out of your thoughts and you hold still. Shifting your scarf a little, you usher Caesar down again and twist around to look at Vriska. She is in the doorway, looking at you like she could really care less. Her fingers move restlessly against her arm, though, and she narrows her eyes as she sweeps her gaze over you.

You’re about to open your mouth and make a smartass comment, but the feeling of feathers rustling against your neck changes your mind. You need to go and feed him properly. “Nothin’. What’s got you so sour faced today?”

She huffs, throws her hair over her shoulder and declares, “Like you could ever understand half the things that I go through, Eridan!”

You bite your tongue again. Caesar is stirring, trying to push himself up and get more food. You need to leave, you can’t stick around and banter with her, even if she’s so wrong it makes you almost see black in trying to prove it. “All right. I’ll leave you alone then.”  You opt out of the scene all together and pick up your plate, while she blinks in surprise at your acquiescent words, you hurry from the kitchen.

You’re half way down the hall before you hear her calling out behind you in a tone that says she knows it’s a hollow victory, “That’s right, just run off by yourself you tool! There’s nothing for you to do here anyway!”

“That’s what we call a hollow victory, grub,” you whisper to Caesar. He peeps back at you, poking his head out from under your scarf. His little wings go next, flapping against your neck as you hurry down the halls and back to your respiteblock. You weren’t very good at disciplining him in staying hidden, so what? He had only been alive for two hours or so. That was no time for you to spend admonishing him!

It does mean you have to pull up the collar of your cape and duck your head as you hurry past Terezi and Nepeta roleplaying in the hall so they don’t catch a whiff or try to stop you to FLARP, but you’re used to running off on your own anyway. This time, as you leave them behind, you smile. You’re not really alone anymore, now are you?

Back on your pile, you sit with the food on your lap and Caesar inching his way down your shirt front with tiny fists and a worming tail. His wings flutter to keep his balance and you coo over him the entire time. Together you finish the mediocre meal, complete with him licking down the plate and peeping rhythmically as he did so. Then you stretch out on your pile, pushing away the plate to get comfortable. He crawls back up your chest and curls up, tangled in your scarf. You run a gentle fingertip between his wings, down his side, and over his hair. He peeps sleepily and soon is asleep on you.

Your face hurts with how much you’re smiling as you feel yourself drift off as well.

* * *

Over the next few days, you get used to waking up to peeps in your ears and small wings buffeting your face. Little hands and arms get stronger and stronger, building muscle as he climbs your shirt, your scarf and moves himself around while his wings flap near uselessly. He’s already growing too, eating several times a day and sleeping most of the rest of it, curled like a warm orange flame against your neck. You spend a lot of time sleeping with him. The warmth makes you a little drowsy and you’ve managed to find a little grey area to dream in once you do sleep, so curling up on the pile of wands is not a problem.

When he is awake, but in those rare hours when he’s not hungry, you read to him. He curls himself up in your scarf, peeping whenever he comes across a picture in your large historical books that he likes, and listens as you recount the history of your people. It usually puts him to sleep, but as he gets a little older and a little bigger, he starts helping you turn the page.

You’re halfway through your favorite tome when you realize he’s grown to the same length as the book now, his little wispy orange tail curling around your wrist as you hold the book. His wings are still mostly fluff, though, so when he gets a chill he fluffs out his whole body and burrows against you. It’s when he starts wrapping the end of your scarf around his neck that you decide it’s time to get him his own.

He’s still small enough to hide around your neck, although he goes almost all the way around now. You pull up your scarf and you tuck his wings down and shush him before stepping out of your room. Being older, he understood being quiet better, but you could still feel him poke out his head and watch from your scarf. Whenever you two were alone, you allowed it.

First you go to the nutrition block to make food. Unfortunately, this time it is occupied.

The humans have surprisingly irregular eating patterns. Once in a while, on your regular schedule, they’ll either be there or show up and just make a meal like it was planned that way. This time they’re finishing one up, with the human girl Rose spreading the last of something white and fragrant on a piece of bread while the human boy Dave leans back in his chair and makes a face at his drink. He’s already rambling. “It can’t really be that hard to make a decent drink around here. It really shouldn’t. Everything is either like mineral water or some sort of ridiculous soda that is like a rainbow collection of troll piss. I mean I like soda as much as the next kid but could we get something non-carbonated for once? All I’m asking for is water that’s clear and maybe some juice. Doesn’t have to be apple, it could be white grape, or orange. You know, if I had known I was going to have no apple juice in this hellhole, I would have captchalogued it way back in the beginning of this stupid game.”

You see Rose nodding her head and murmuring some comforting non-words to him. She’s got a notebook open on her lap that she writes in while her other hand holds the slice of bread. You feel Caesar shifting against your neck and reach up to adjust your scarf. You bend your head to your work, trying to ignore the words that don’t seem to end from Dave’s mouth. When you fetch a bottle from the fridge, you glance over to see him with his face turned to the ceiling, waving one hand with a mug in it as he talks. “The coffee is hardly a drink at all, it’s a sludge half the time and the rest of the time like oil with the way that the colors reflect off the surface. It could fucking be motor oil for all I know, I haven’t seen a car or anything like that in I can’t remember how long. We are going to be stuck here for years and then what is going to happen? I might never see a car again for the rest of my life.”

Watching him talk like that, you can see his jaw moving, the muscle and the bone shifting under tanned skin. His neck is slender and long and you watch it bob and flex as he talks. Gravity pulls his hair away from his head, as he leans it back, the wisps of sun-bleached hair pulling away from his forehead. It takes you a long moment to realize he’s stopped talking, his mouth is shut and those eyes you can’t see the color of are staring back at you from behind dark shades. “Yo. Can I help you?”

You tell yourself it’s the sharp, startling way he all of a sudden talks to you that makes your fins fan out and your cheeks darken, not anything else, as you shake your head. “I don’t fuckin’ need anythin’ from you,” your words are a rush as you finish fishing through the fridge and close it. You have the attention of both the humans now, watching as you make yourself a large meal.

“No need to be rude about it,” he says, “Just asking you a simple question. Not like I’m all in your space, leaning up in your grill like a serious in your face fucker.”

The knife you’re using fumbles in your fingers. They’re both staring and if they keep doing so, if you keep talking to them Caesar will get curious and if he gets curious he’ll poke his head out and if he does that then-

There’s a clatter of metal to metal as the knife hits the counter. Your hand is shaking.

You hear wood scraping against the floor and look up in time to see him walking over, mug abandoned on the table. “Need some help there with your knife work, buddy?”

“Dave…” Rose says, still sitting, eyes narrowed. She’s never liked you. But then the way you talked to her the first time, you’re not really that surprised. You don’t much like her either.

You feel feathers move against your neck and you grab the first thing that comes to your hand, the knife. “Back the fuck off,” you bare your teeth. He stops, lifting one hand slowly.

“No need to get hasty now. You’re the only one here who would have long standing effects from messing around with something sharp like that.” He takes a step back, “But it’s cool man. I get it. You’re edgy and dodgy and like to hang out in your own doing whatever it is that’s your special little troll thing to do. Just wanted to help you out.”

Turning away, the knife drops out of your fingers again onto the counter. You want him to help you out too. That would be really nice, really really nice, even if he was just doing it to laugh at you later. But you had Caesar, who needed you, and you didn’t have time to waste on beautiful aliens who should know better than to smile at you anyway. You might start taking them seriously, if they did something stupid like that. You hiss under your breath and pick up your plate. “I told you. I don’t need your fuckin’ help, so fuck off.”

Food made and plate collected, you hurried from the room, conflicted in your emotions. You found a small empty closet down one hallway and slip inside. You can’t lock the door so you sit against it and sigh heavily. In this privacy, you rub Caesar’s wing with one finger and pull down the scarf. He comes out and tumbles down your chest into your lap with wings flapping and a gleeful peep. You smile at him and lower the plate to next to him on your thigh. He flaps his wings and hugs your hand before digging into the food.

You eat slowly, making sure he was completely filled before you finished off the rest of the sandwich. You put the plate aside and sigh heavily. Maybe you should just avoid them whenever they were in there. It almost always ended up with Dave starting to walk over to you and you having to run away. You didn’t understand it. Why did he push at you like that? Why didn’t he just leave you alone like the others? It was worse when it was just him in the nutrition block. You shudder at the thought.

“Peep?”

Caesar tugs on your scarf with both hands, getting your attention. He peeps a few more times and looks up at you with worried orange eyes.

“Oh fuck, don’t look at me like that Cae. You silly grub, I’m fine, I promise. Daddy’s just… Daddy’s just confused by humans. They are aliens after all. I’m no fuckin’ good with the same species, so havin’ luck with aliens is pretty much out of the question.” You reach down and scratch at the base of his wing, making him fluff his feathers out. “But that’s fine, Cae. I got you. You’re my wriggler an I’m your lusus. We got each other and that’s all we need right now.”

He bounced up and down for a moment before climbing hand over hand up your scarf. Half curled in the folds of the cloth around your neck, he puts his little arms against your cheek and chin like a strange hug and rubs his face against yours. You sigh and hold him close with your hands, giving him a sort of hug back. “I love you, Cae.”

Caesar peeps at you and paps your earfins. He continues to pet your face until you’re smiling and you have to scold him to stop from chewing on your earfin. You pick up the plate and get to your feet slowly, making sure he slips into place around your neck.

Drowsily, he curls around your neck, wings folded over himself and his little puff of breath against your throat. He peeps softly a few times, and once he’s quiet you step back into the hall. You hurry to the nutrition block. Dave is long gone, but Rose is there, book on the table now. She looks up at you with penetrating purple eyes as you put the plate in the sink and then walk off, leaving it there. It wasn’t your turn to do dishes anyway.

You hurried out of there as quickly as you could. You wanted to get the scarf made and then return to your room and sleep.

It takes a few times, and leaves the end of your scarf a little frayed, but eventually you combine enough of the right items to get the perfect array of little scarves, in multiple colors, so he could pick whichever he wanted to wear. He wakes up halfway during the process so you end up talking to him, telling him each of the things you’re making and how. 

Once you’re finished you put them away in a group and hurry away.

You’re halfway down one hall when you hear unmistakable laughter that roots you to the ground.

You can’t move forward and you can’t move back. You just step to the side and look down to the floor, keeping to yourself as best as you can. You tug up your scarf a little higher around Caesar’s sleeping body and you wait, wait for the inevitable.

Footsteps proceed another bubbling of laughter and you tighten your grip on your scarf. You can’t even breathe properly. Short, quivering gasps of breath are sucked in between your lips and are shuddered out in a series of pants. You’re getting lightheaded and she isn’t even—

“Eridan?”

Your chin jerks up. In the poor lighting of the hallway, she almost glows. The soft colors of her god tier clothing suit her remarkably well, even if you’re more used to her in bright, vivid colors like the shimmering scales of a fish. She’s not the only one who’s hanging out in her specialized outfit, Aradia, in all her red with her wings, and Sollux in his dark green are walking with her. The former gives you a slight smile and the latter wrinkles his nose at you. You look down and away.

You still remember the vicious fury in Feferi’s eyes as she snatched your wand from your hand and broke it into several pieces. You remember even better the crack of a slap across your face, the way her ring cut your skin and your flesh burned from the contact. You don’t remember what happened exactly after that, but when you’d woken up next there was blood on your shirt and three holes in it and you were alone in your room.

You had theories, and each of them frightened you.

Now, she drifts over to you like an old friend and she’s two steps away before you skitter back in a rush. “No. Don’t. Don’t _touch_ me.” Your back hits the wall and you feel like there’s something cold and dangerous curled around your bloodpusher, like a hand, or a cage of metal. Sadness washes over her face and she looks away, blinking quickly. She returns to the other two and they walk on. Only Sollux looks back, with a one finger salute to give you behind the backs of the girls.

Your trapped breath escapes you in a whine that you hate and you close your eyes tightly. You missed her and at the same time she scared you so badly. You weren’t certain of what had happened after that slap, but at the same time you could not forget it.

With a trembling hand you reach up to touch Caesar’s feathery warmth. You put one foot forward and then another and then another until you’re walking, slowly, down the hallway.

* * *

Caesar just keeps growing. He eats more and more, still sleeping for hours at a time, and yet he grows. Soon his arm drapes over the edge of your scarf as he curls around your neck, half hidden around your shoulders. He still sleeps across your shoulders. He is untroubled by nightmares or dreams and when he sleeps his breath comes in deep, even breaths.

He’s grown attached to the dark red scarf you made for him, and so, as he’s grown, you’ve made sure it grows with him. His wings have grown along with the rest of his body. The little downy feathers are finally falling away, replaced with longer and longer feathers. Flight feathers.

They’re sleek and a shimmering yellow to yellow-orange to orange-red range of colors across his wings. They’re utterly gorgeous.

Caesar shows some interest in your books, but more interest in your broken wands. At first he chews on them, but as he gets older they become a variety of weapons. Eventually he’s crawling up onto your makeshift bookshelves and parachuting off with a broken wand held like a sword.

Playing with him, at first, is a pain. You worry about hurting him, about damaging a wing, and he seems to not worry at all. He just flings himself whole heartedly into make-shift battle. He does it all the time, when you’re reading or trying to sleep.

After he spooks you out of a nightmare and you actually backhand him across the room, you figure its time for a little rule change. You still remember the way he stared at you, crumpled on the floor, wand-sword beside him with his orange eyes wider than you have ever seen. Sweat clung to your shirt, soaked your hair, and your hand stung from the contact. There was a scratch on his cheek from your claws. You don’t know what dripped down his cheek first, his tears or his blood, but as soon as he sniffled you were across the room and gathering him into your arms.

He clung to you, apologizing between his peeps, and crying. You cried into his hair, apologizing as well. So you instigated a timing rule. There was no fucking pouncing when you were asleep. You didn’t want to hurt him ever again.

Instead, you set apart time every day to play with him, wands, swords, guns, it didn’t matter what you pretended to do. You wear your cape and he flares his wings and the two of you fight each other and fight invisible monsters. You teach him the word for your gaming is FLARPing. He laughs at the word and starts calling it FLAPing.

Before you know it, he’s as long as your arm and he’s able to glide off of bookcases and desks and your shoulders  down to the floor or your pile of discarded toys and wands. He’s using full sentences, and only peeps when excited or upset. Caesar doesn’t fit around your neck alone anymore, but curls around your shoulders with ease. He drapes himself over your shoulders with wings flapping occasionally for balance and he naps there.

The first time you leave him alone is when he’s this size. You can no longer sneak him hidden under your scarf or beneath your torn cape. So you wrap him up in the purple of your cape and you kiss his forehead. You leave him alone on your pile with instructions to hide if anyone comes inside. You don’t think anyone will, but you can’t be sure.

He puts on a brave face for you, but his fingers curl in your scarf tightly when he says his goodbye. It’s the first time either of you have been separated from each other since he was born.

Your trip to the nutrition block is a long one. You feel cold and too light. Without realizing it, you are nearly running down the hallway. You only catch yourself when you’re at the doorway, breathing heavily, and you have to stop.

Inside you hear Karkat. Karkat is ranting, at near the top of his lungs, and you curse your luck under your breath. “…impossibly insufferable if you just managed to keep your goddamn hands to yourself more often. We’re trolls, not toys or playthings or experiments for you to figure out. What the hell is even fucking wrong with you? She thinks we’re to be poked and prodded and questioned and you just nod your head like you’re perfectly okay with all of this? And don’t you say a damn thing, Strider, because I know you’re going to side with Lalonde. You always do. This question is for Kanaya.”

Your heart drops into your guts. Your stomach drops to your knees. Your knees shake. Your close encounter with Feferi may be a half-remembered nightmare, but the disgust in Kanaya’s eyes and the anger in her face after what you did to the matriorb— Those you don’t even have to close your eyes to see. Unfortunately for you, Caesar’s needs trump your fear, so you take in a deep breath, let it out in a heavy sigh and turn the corner.

The room is the most full you’ve ever seen it. Both humans, your leader, Kanaya, Vriska’s sitting on the counter with a smirk and Terezi is building something on the table out of colorful cups. Rose is standing beside Kanaya, her hands folded in front of her. She has that cutting smile on her face that makes her look older than she should. “Why wouldn’t she be okay with this?”

Kanaya smiles too, trying to emulate Rose’s expression- you can see it in the way she lifts her chin like Rose- but she doesn’t quite get that predatory look. “You assume that no exploration is returned. I assure you, Karkat, I learn as much about Rose as she learns about me. I just happen to be less…public with my questions.” She gives Rose a glance. They share a look that makes you jealous and ashamed at once.

You’re glancing to Dave, but have to make yourself look away. No one is going to share such a look with you. Certainly not him. Especially if he knew what you had stolen from him.

“Out of the way, fishbutt. Can’t you see I’m trying to watch some hot babes in action?” Vriska sneers at you when you walk past.

That’s all that needs to be said or done for the rest to notice you. You hiss a curse under your breath at her and go about making some food. You ignore the stares from the others, except for Terezi. Dave’s standing against the fridge, though, when you need to go open it. You mutter out a, “Fuckin’ excuse me,” and he leans away from the door and towards you.

“No problem, dude,” he says standing far too close to you. You feel your fins trembling, wanting to flare out in danger or attraction. You’re teetering on the edge of control, though, so you decide to dig your teeth into that particular beast and ignore him. You get out the ingredients that you need and leave the fridge.

By that time, Vriska’s engaged the ‘hot babes’ in conversation. That doesn’t stop Karkat from stalking up to you. “Where the hell have you been? Don’t you ever come out of your respite block?”

“Yes,” you reply. Your words are as stiff as your spine. You can feel Dave’s gaze on your back. It’s maddening. “I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“He’s more punctual with his eating schedule than I am,” Dave takes the opportunity to bring himself into the conversation. He stands on your left while Karkat glares at him from where he stands on your right side. You just try to make enough food for yourself and Caesar without drawing attention to the amount. “Isn’t that right, Eridan?”

“Some people like to keep to a fuckin’ schedule,” you grit out the words.

“Are you stalking him?” Karkat snarls.

Oh god you hope not. That is the last thing you need, now that Caesar’s getting bigger.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Is it any business of yours what Eridan and I do?” Dave leans in. He puts his hand on your shoulder.

What the hell is he doing?

“I’m his leader, and his friend. And someone has to protect him from alien assholes like you and miss skin sample over there.” Karkat puts his hand on your other shoulder.

What in the actual fuck is going on? You grip the knife you were using to slice cheese tightly. “Get off of me.”

“What was that, Eridarling?” You can smell whatever it is Dave uses on his hair.

“The fuck did you just call him?!” Karkat’s voice is rising and hurting your ear.

“I said. Get the fuck. Off of me.” You make yourself drop the knife and reach up. You shove them both back, hard. Karkat goes skidding past the fridge and into Kanaya’s back. Dave hits the cupboard with his back and stumbles down to a knee.

There’s silence as everyone stares at you. Fuck. You haven’t finished making the food.

“Damn you’re a hell of a lot stronger than you look.” Dave breaks the quiet with his words.

“I just want to make some food and fuckin’ go,” your words shake like your fists now at your sides. “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Leave me. The fuck. Alone.”

“What happened to you to make you sing such a different tune,” That’s Vriska, voicing her opinion where no one needs it.

The knife is in your hand and out of it so fast you hardly register that you’ve grabbed it, let alone thrown it. Your excellent aim is your benefit in this when it lands exactly where you want it to. The knife sticks out of the wood of the cupboard behind Vriska’s head, the metal handle right between her horns. You know threatening her like that hardly fucking matters. Threatening any of them is essentially pointless. You stand in a room full of godtiers. If any real shit was to go down, it would be you who suffered.

And Caesar because of you.

“Just pretend,” you say with a forced calm, “That I’m not even here.”

In Kanaya’s hand, the one not holding onto Karkat’s shoulders, is a lipstick tube. Rose is watching you with curiosity. Terezi arches an eyebrow behind her red glasses. Vriska smirks.

But it’s Dave’s little smile, and the way he leans in, one elbow on the counter, that unnerves you the most. The others go back to talking, or working with the cups in Terezi’s case.

Dave just watches you silently.

You love and hate that about him.

* * *

“Papa?”

You blink open your eyes to a little orange face. He pats your cheek and says again, “Papa?”

Rubbing your eyes, you push yourself up into a sitting position on the pile. “Yeah, Cae? What is it?”

“Who’s Dave?”

You feel your bloodpusher stop in your chest. Your fingers tighten into fists. You look to your son and whisper, “How do you know that name?”

“You say it in your sleep, peep.” He flutters his wings, climbing into your lap. His tail curls around in a little base as he sits, looking up at you. “Who is it?”

“He’s this…kid. Human kid. He doesn’t look like you or like me or like any of the creatures in the books. He’s got pale skin so thin you can see his veins in his wrist.” You gently take Caesar’s hand in yours and turn it over. You run your fingers over the skin on the inside of his wrist. “He has hair lighter than mine and not orange like yours, but a kind of white gold color. He wears glasses, but they’re black where mine are clear, so I don’t know what his eyes look like. He wears a lot of red, though, and never ever stops talking.”

Caesar peeps. “Is he good?”

You see the hope in his eyes. You open your mouth but there’s no way you can crush that in him. You want to shield him, so badly, from the evils of others. You want to shield him from hopelessness. “Yes.”

You stroke your fingers through Caesar’s hair. “He is a very good person. He tries to help me when it looks like I need help. He talks to me every time he sees me. He doesn’t scare me like the others do.”

Caesar’s feathers stick out on end and he pouts. “Scare you? Who can scare you? You’re the strongest, Papa!”

You try to calm him down with more pets. Eventually, after he angrily peeps at the world, he curls up against your stomach and pouts. “So Dave is good and the others bad?”

“Scary, bad, dangerous. I have to be careful around them.” Your chest is hurting. It isn’t like when you can’t breathe. It hurts like three daggers are in your body. You put your hand over where one of the spikes of pain is and close your eyes. “I have to be careful because if anything happens to me…”

Caesar’s little fingers are digging into your sides and his face is pressing hard against you. His sniffling breaks through the darkness, the fear clawing at the insides of your mind. You scoop him up in your arms and bring him up for a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t cry, Cae. Don’t cry. Shoosh.” You dry his tears with the end of his little red scarf and you hold him tightly in your arms.

“Don’t go out, Papa. Don’t go out if it’s not safe.” He hugs his arms around your neck, burying his face in your scarf. “Don’t get hurt, peep.”

You run your fingers through the feathers on his back, scratching lightly at the base of his wings. His feathers fluff out, automatically. He peeps several more times as he holds onto you. Suddenly his little head pops up and he says, “Dave can protect you! Peep! You said he’s nice to you, tries to help you, peep. Can’t you ask him to protect you?”

“I…”

His eyes are earnest. He searches your face with hope, with bright, gleaming intensity in his eyes. “Peep?”

You have to look away. “He has no reason to protect me.”

“But he’s nice to you!”

“That isn’t enough reason to protect me!” 

“Peep. It should be! It would be for me! I would protect you!”

You shake your head. “You’re my grub, Cae. A course you would protect me. Just like I would do anythin’ to protect you. You are the most fuckin’ important thing in my whole miserable fuckin’ life.”

He’s gripping your neck tightly, not looking up at you anymore. “Peep. If I had a real sword or a wand I could protect you from them all, Papa.”

“I know.” You rock him in your arms. “I know you would do anythin’ to protect me, Cae. You’re a good grub. The best grub in the whole fuckin’ universe.”

He peeps against your neck.

You rub his back until you’re sure that he’s calmed down. Then, gently,  you pull his arms from your neck and say, “How about we fight the evil Jack again together? Would that make you feel better, Cae?”

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and nods emphatically. “Yes! Let’s kick that motherfucker’s tush!”

You laugh and reach over for your two taped together sword-wands. You hand him his and help him get up onto your shoulders. Getting up onto your feet, you prepare for battle against an imaginary Jack. It’s good to have him laughing and fighting instead of crying. You hate to make him cry.

* * *

“Are you ready? Peep?”

You nod your head, holding out the big cushion you’ve fashioned together in the last week or so. “Emergency landin’ is prepared, grub. Are you ready to be a flyer?”

He stretched out his wings as far as he could, his little fingers curled around the end of the bookshelf. He bobbed his head up and down. “Ready for takeoff!”

Your bloodpusher is pounding in your chest as he flaps his wings, once, twice, and then again. The third time, he pushes off the bookshelf and into the air. His first dozen attempts at flying have ended up with you catching him with the cushion, but this time-

Caesar glides for a moment or two, then flaps his wings. He gains in altitude and then scoops down again as he angles his wings differently. He swoops around you and starts flapping again. You know that he’s got it, the moment that he starts laughing. “I’m flying! I’m fucking flying!”

You drop the cushion and hold out your hands. He takes a little time maneuvering but then he comes zooming towards your outstretched hands. You pluck him from the air, spinning the both of you around and around. “You did it!” Your face is already hurting from how broad you’re grinning.

“Peep!” He flaps his wings as you tug him into a hug. “I can fly!”

You almost don’t hear the knocking over yours, and his, laughter. But as soon as the sound registers, it shoots fear down your spine. You clutch Caesar to your chest and hiss for his silence. He goes still, pulling his wings in tight. You know he’s feeding his fear with your own. You know that this isn’t good for him, but you can’t think so well when you get startled into terror like this.

You take several deep breaths and then call out, “Who the fuck is it?”

“Terezi!” comes the shout.

You let out a heavy breath. That was better news than almost any other. You put Caesar down on the cushion and motion him to be still and quiet. Then you go to the door and pull it open just enough to show your face. You scowl at her. “The fuck do you want?”

“I was just wondering if Dave was in here. I can’t find him anywhere and I thought I heard his voice.” She’s got her arms folded across her chest. It’s strange looking into eyes that can see you, but you’ve gotten more used to it now. When you first saw her after she went godtier, you couldn’t stop staring.

“No. He’s not here. It’s just me.”

“So… you’re laughing with yourself?” Her grin is like a dragon’s mouth, but that’s hardly new. “I get it. I laugh with myself too. Well, and with my scalemates.” She laughs, as if to prove a point. “Anyway, I was certain I heard his voice from over here.”

“He’s not fuckin’ here. Why would you think I would have him in my rooms anyway.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

You stare at her. If it was obvious, you wouldn’t have to fucking ask, now would you? “No.”

She laughs again. “All right then. If you say so.”  She steps back, turning away.

“Wait a minute. What is it? What’s so obvious?”  You lean out of your room.

“If you don’t see it, you don’t see it! I’m not going to just tell you what it is. There’s no fun in that. You need to figure it out!” She just keeps walking away.

“Ter! Wait!” You take a step out, “I don’t care about it bein’ fun or not. I want to know what it is!”

She laughs. “It’s more fun for me this way!” Then she’s gone around a corner and all you can hear is her laughter. You step back into your room, frowning as you shut the door. You hear a flutter of wings and turn around to see Caesar flying towards you. He catches ahold of your arm with his hands and lands there. “Papa?”

You ruffle his hair, shaking your head, “It’s nothin’. She was just wonderin’ if Dave was in here.”

“Dave? Why would she think he’s here, peep?” He looks up at you curiously.

“I guess she thinks you sound like him.”

“Why would she think that?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. So it was time for that conversation, was it? “Let’s sit down, I got somethin’ to tell you.”

He bobs his head in agreement. You carry him over to the pile and sit down with a heavy sigh. He sits, tail curled up underneath himself, on your lap. He’s longer than your arm now, nearly as long as your leg. You’ve lost track of the days that you’ve had him, but it’s been a few months now. Inside of your room time is fluid, barely noticeable. The only thing you’ve had to keep track of was when to get food, and now that he’s older, you don’t have to go so often.

You pat his head and give him a little smile, “When I got you, you were an itty bitty little egg.” You reach for your sylladex and pull out the card he was stored in. “An you came in this card, from another universe.” You look down at the empty card. “You weren’t supposed to be for me, Cae. You were a gift to…to Dave. I guess that’s because you’re a part of a part a him.”

He tilts his head to the side and lets out a confused peep.

“What I mean is that in the game, you know how I’ve told you how you make a sprite a something? Well I guess he did that with one a his alternate timeline selves to make a Davesprite. An I don’t know how but Davesprite made you. You were just a little egg in a card an you landed on the ground by accident. No one saw you fall out but me. So I picked you up an got you out a the card an then you hatched an…” You blink rapidly. Why are you tearing up? There’s no reason for that.

“An I raised you but, you weren’t really supposed to be mine? You were for Dave cause you’re part a him. His genetics is in you. He’s your proper lusus, not me.”

“Peep.”

“So you kinda sound like him. At least the older you get the more your voice sounds like his voice, though I don’t think you two say the same things. I don’t know how much a part a him is you an… how much a what I’ve taught you is you.” You shrug and look away. “I’m sorry that I stole you from your lusus before you even knew him.”

“Peep!” Caesar’s puffed out his cheeks. “You’re my lusus! You found me and hatched me and fed me! I might be part Dave, but I’m all Caesar and I’m your grub. So please don’t be sad, Papa. Don’t look like that! Peep!” He flapped his wings at you, his words degrading down into multiple peeps.

You put your hand over his mouth. “Hush. All right? I get it. I guess it takes two to make a grub anyway. I mean that’s how it should be, even with the mothergrub an' the slurry. You still can’t have a grub if there aren’t two trolls providing the genetic material.” Caesar looks at you in confusion but you shrug again.

“So Dave’s your genetic ancestor an I’m your lusus. That’s very troll like.”

He grins up at you, “Like you, Papa? A troll like you?”

You nod your head.

“That’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted! Peep!” He hugs you tightly. You’re surprised by the strength in his little arms. “I want to be just like you, Papa!”

You smile and hug him back. He quickly untangles himself from your arms and picks up one of the longer, but still broken, wands. His wings lift him into the air in a loop. “Peep!” He cries out, “Peep, peep, caw!”

You lay back on the wands, grinning. He was so happy. So happy and not angry at you. You were full of relief. “Cae?” You reached out your hands to him. He came plummeting out of the air and into your arms. He knocked the wind out of you with his weight, and laughed when you breathlessly chuckled.

“Yes Papa?”

“Do you want a sword of your very own? A real one?”

You’ve never seen him smile this big. He bounces up and down on your chest. “With a blade and an edge and, peep peep, everything?”

“Yes. Just like that. If you promise to be careful with it, I will get you a real sword.” You poke his nose. He grabs your hand and hugs it tightly.

“Oh thank you! I promise to be so careful with it. No one will get hurt!” He excitedly flaps his wings. “Oh a real sword. A real one! I’m so excited, Papa. Peep, peep, peep! Thank you, oh thank you.”

You cup his face in your hands and kiss his forehad. “Anythin’ for you, grub. Anythin’ at all.”

* * *

You’re crouched beside the machine, sorting through what you have in your sylladex in hopes to find something that could become part of a sword. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. It looked like it would be so easy to make. Kanaya had made that wand for you so simply, and a sword wasn’t nearly as powerful as that.

Dave suddenly appears at your side. At first all you see is a blur of red, and then he’s crouched down beside you. You jump and fall back, “The fuck!”

He lifts a hand. “Yo.”

You glare at him, pulling away. “What do you want.”

“You know, that’s usually a question when someone says that. But frankly, I didn’t hear a single question mark in your words at all.” He puts his elbows on his knees and puts one hand up to put his chin in his palm. “In fact I heard some serious sneer there.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy. I don’t have time for your inane shit,” you stand up, brushing yourself off.

He looks up at you. But he doesn’t tilt his chin up, so you see the barest rim of his irises. His eyes are red. You bite your lip. “What are you trying to make? Clothing? Different food? A weapon? I heard that all yours were broken or lost.”

You tighten your hands on your sylladex. “It’s none of your business.”

He looks at you for a little longer and then stands up. “All right. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He fixes the collar of his shirt and then turns. He’s nearly out of the room before you remember something. His strife specibus.

“Wait!”

He stops. He turns around again. “Yeah?”

“Your sword.”  He arches an eyebrow at your words. “I need a code for a sword. Not like yours but simpler. But I need a sword.”

You wait for the questioning why, the demand to know what you plan to do with it, but it never comes. He just nods his head. He pulls out a card from his strifedeck and holds it out to you. “Something like this?”

You touch the card, intending to take it, but he doesn’t let go. So you tip it down and look at it. It’s a simple katana blade. “Yes. That’s perfect.”

“Great.” Dave pulls the card back. He holds it up, saying, “I’ll give this to you on one condition.”

Curiosity and anxiety war within you, but you refuse to let it show. You glare at him, your hands curling into fists. “I could just take it from you.”

“Sure you could, but you won’t.” He waves the card back and forth. “Because that would cause all sorts of problems with the others, and you hate problems with them. Or do you just hate them?”

You grit your teeth together. You can’t answer him without snarling or shouting, so you keep silent for a moment longer.

“And if you hate all of them, does that mean you hate me too?”

“Is that what you want to know in exchange for the card?”

“No.”

“Then what are you willin’ to exchange for it?” You fold your arms over your chest to keep your hands from shaking. The sword is for Caesar, so you know that you’re going to say yes to whatever he asks, but you don’t want him to know that.

“Time.” He’s gesturing with the card, “Specifically, your time. I never see you unless you’re getting food and even then its only for as long as it takes you to make it. So let’s hang out, watch a movie, play some video games together. You and me or maybe a couple of friends, whatever is most comfortable for you.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say before you can shut yourself up. This is impossible. How can he ask this of you? Why would he want this from you? “What are you gettin’ out a this?”

There’s the faintest pink tint on his cheeks, “What, isn’t it obvious?”

You narrow your eyes. “Is what obvious.”

“You mean you don’t… okay wow. I heard you were oblivious but I didn’t think it was that bad.” He chuckles. He laughs _at you._ For a brief moment you wish you _could_ just take the card from him. Like he fucking deserved your time anyway. “What the hell do you think I get from spending some time with you?”

You can only think of it as time away from Caesar, time where he is vulnerable. But he didn’t know about Caesar. “Nothin’. You don’t get fuck all for takin’ up my time.”

“Jesus, there is no pleasing you.” He sighs. “Of course I get something out of it! It’s really obvious. I get to spend time with you!” The blush on his cheeks gets worse.

You blink. You still don’t get it. “Why the fuck do you want to spend time with me?”

He hits his forehead with his palm, “How the fuck are you so damn dense… All right, look. I want to spend time with you. You need this card. So we should both get what we want and-,”

“I don’t want to spend time with you.” You have to interrupt him. “Isn’t there anythin’ else that you want from me? I don’t have time or any interest in spendin’ time with you.” You’re lying, at least a little, but you don’t want to risk it. You don’t know how long Dave would want to spend with you. You don’t want to leave Caesar alone that long. You can like him all you want, but it just wasn’t going to work out. You didn’t need to see annoyance and disappointment in his face, like you’d seen in Feferi’s, when it turned out that you wanted more than he did.

His expression is smooth, impassive. His blush is gone after you’re done talking. “Fine.” He hands over the card. “Give me your scarf and the sword is yours.”

You trail your fingers over the cloth. Caesar spent a lot of time wrapped up in this, and it was a gift from Feferi, years ago.

You nod and reach up to take off your scarf. Dave flashsteps right up in front of you, into your personal space. You would step back, or at least lean back, but his hands are on your scarf. He pulls it tighter for a second. You swallow nervously. His hands slide up your scarf and slowly pull it from around your neck. His fingertips brush along your neck, under your jaw, and you feel his breath on your cheek as he sighs. “I would have liked that time, you know,” he whispers.

You can’t see his eyes, even this close, and that bothers you. All you see is your own face looking back at you. Your eyes are wide and your fins flared. You can’t say that you agree, because even though you would, you don’t dare go back on your words now. Caesar mattered more than your growing interest towards Dave. That was just how it was.

He slips the cloth from your neck and is gone. Your last image of him is a red cape and blond hair separated by the blue of your scarf. In your hands is the card. Your vision blurs a little, but you shake your head and blink to hold back the tears. Holding onto the card, you return to your room. Caesar would like this sword. He would like it even more now that it was directly from Dave.

* * *

It feels like the middle of the day. It has been feeling like it’s the middle of the day, when no one is supposed to be awake and you can’t fall asleep and even daymares would be welcome because at least you would be _asleep_ then, for almost a week. Or two. Or three. You’ve lost track of time and the simple word time makes your bloodpusher throb.

The inevitable has happened. Dave is avoiding you.

You walk into the nutrition block and he flashsteps out without a word. You don’t know what he did with your scarf, but he’s not wearing it. He won’t walk in the same hall as you, he turns the other way when you appear. He doesn’t talk to you.

You didn’t think it would hurt this badly, when he did that. You always knew that he would, you were waiting for it, ready for it. You thought that maybe if you were prepared for this, that it would hurt less.

Instead you notice him even more. You can hear his laughter around corners. You linger outside the nutrition block so you can hear him talking because the moment you appear he goes silent as death. There’s no more questions, or prodding you with his words. There’s no more attention from him.

And yet-

And yet you still watch for him, look after him when he goes, you still crave the sound of his voice.

You still dream about him.

Caesar is bigger now. He grows more and more every night. He looks so much like Dave that it hurts. His hair falls in the same way, his chin and cheeks are pointed the same way. When he smiles at you, your heart breaks. He curls up in your arms to sleep and you kiss his forehead and you try not to cry.

But it’s the middle of the day and you can’t sleep anymore.

Maybe that’s why you go against your better judgment. Caesar wants to go out flying in a bigger room. He wants to soar up and up, he says. And you have no will to say no to him.

He hides, clinging to your back, under your tattered cape, as you walk to the largest room you know of on the meteor. It’s abandoned and full of glass cases and crevices. The ceiling is so far up that you can’t see it very well. You sit on one of the counters and look up, watching as Caesar flies around and around. Half the time he’s just a smudge of orange in the darkness. You can hear him laughing and talking to himself. He’s pretending to be a ninja, or something, up there in the darkness.

Ever since Dave snuck up on you before, though, you’re hyper aware of footsteps. After a few hours of him flying about, you hear someone coming. At the same time, Caesar starts floating down towards you, beaming and out of breath. “Papa,” he says and then stops.

You motion him to be quiet. “Hide. Quickly.”

He flaps towards you and you hiss, gesturing him off. “Not with me, Cae!”

He frowns, but obeys you. In a moment he’s up above again, out of view on top of one of the canisters. You turn to face whoever it is coming through the doorway.

Vriska and Sollux walk through. You wince. Fuck. You don’t need this in your life, you really don’t. You haven’t slept for days. They’re going to tear you apart.

They stop inside the room and look at you. Vriska crosses her arms over her chest, “What are you doing in here? I thought you were like a little hermit in your room all the time.”

You clench your jaw. “So I wanted to take a walk, anythin’ wrong with that?”

“Yeah. When you decide to take a walk where we decided to duel. So buzz off,” Sollux steps up beside her.

“Duel? You two? Why?”

“None of your fucking business,” Vriska waves her hand at you. “So clear out.”

You roll your eyes and shrug, making a show of your dismissiveness towards her words, but really you’re checking to see if Caesar’s still up above. He is. His little orange head is poking over the edge of the canister so he can watch. “Nah. I think I’ll stick around for this.”

Vriska makes a disgusted noise but Sollux makes a twisted smile, “Sticking around to watch us blackfight, Eridan? Are you really sure you want to watch that? I thought Vriska was your ex-kismesis.” He lifts his chin and sneers, “Unless you’re just that kind of perverted.”

“You two are black for each other?” you say in shock.

“As pitch,” Vriska replies, “You got a problem with that?”

Shit. That means their duel could be really explosive. Caesar wouldn’t be safe here at all. You needed to get out. “No. But I haven’t got any wish to see that kind a duel. So I’ll be goin’ after all.” You step down from the counter.

“That’s a load of shit,” Sollux says, “We all know you want in on this action but you’re too weak to join us.” He turns to Vriska, “See, without him a godtier like the rest of us, he just keeps out of our fucking business.”

Vriska laughs. They both laugh together, at you. You grit your teeth and force yourself to control your breathing. “Ha ha, very fuckin’ funny. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You move to step around them.

Vriska grabs your cape and yanks you back, “And you’re still wearing this? Even after how beat up it is? Look at the holes in this. You can still see where Feferi stabbed him.”

You yank your cape out of her grip, but then there’s the crackling blue and red light of Sollux’s psionics. “Maybe we should take that as a trophy for her. Since he’s too stupid to stop wearing it around himself.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” You snarl out. Oh you wish you had your wand. You would kill him again and again until it was finally fucking just or heroic or something shitty like that. You can’t stand being so helpless, so without a weapon.

But his psionics grab you around the middle and start pulling you back over towards them. Seconds after you start being dragged, there’s a bird like scream. Like a streak of orange light, Caesar drops down from above. You shout to stop him, but it’s too late. You’ve never seen contempt on his face, but his furrowed brows and scowling mouth show it so clearly. You stop fighting the psionics and run forwards. “No! Cae!”

You knock Sollux over into Vriska, and his psionics stop holding onto you. The metal of the sword is cold as it runs through your shoulder. Caesar’s face goes from furious to horrified in a second. Breathing hurts, but you know the wound isn’t fatal. At least not on its own. There’s a moment of terrified silence between you and Caesar before you whisper, “Run. Fly. Get out of here.”

He hesitates, “Peep.”

“Go. Hide!”

He flutters back and then away, soaring out of the room faster than you’ve ever seen him go. You pull the sword from your shoulder and turn towards Sollux and Vriska. She’s grinning and he’s got wide, surprised eyes. “What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“That,” she pats Sollux’s shoulder, “is the deepest shitpile that Eridan has ever made for himself.”

With a shout, you leap at them. You knock them to the ground, hitting Sollux in the head with the hilt of the sword to help dizzy him further. Vriska’s powers were no issue, but Sollux’s were. She yelps as she hits the ground and he hits with a groan of pain. You don’t stop there. You keep running past them. Your shoulder is dripping blood, but your adrenaline is pushing you onwards.

As you flee the room, you run into a group of other trolls. Nepeta and Terezi, you recognize immediately from their FLARP outfits. Equius is looming off to the side and, fuck, Dave is there as well. You race past them, bumping into Nepeta so you don’t hit Dave, and you probably bleed on her. You run on.

You don’t know anywhere safe to go, nowhere but your room. You burst in the door and find Caesar curled on the wands, weeping.

You drop his sword and race over to him. He flings himself into your arms, apologizing between his peeps. You sit with him, holding him tightly. You apologize as well. Eventually you get him calmed down enough that he stops crying. The two of you do your best to bandage your shoulder. He is awed by the fact that your blood truly is purple.

He’s just about asleep in your arms when there’s a knock at your open door. You look over. In the doorway is Karkat, Rose and Feferi. You look down at Caesar, who blinks once, curiously, and settles when you shoosh him.

He’s asleep when they walk in, with Equius following quietly behind. You know why he’s there. He’s the only one strong enough to restrain you, besides Feferi.

“Eridan,” Karkat says softly. “I tried to talk them out of this.”

Rose cuts him off with a hand on his arm. He looks away from you. She steps forwards, “Give over Davesprite quietly and there will be no problems between us.”

You laugh bitterly. “There will always be problems between us, but you’re goin’ to take him away anyway. Nothin’ I say or do will change that.”

Rose steps forward. “He doesn’t belong with you, and you know it.” She crouches down and holds out her arms. They’re slender, and white, like a proper lusus. You can see her veins in the insides of her wrists. “Give him to me.”

You’re shaking as you hand him over. There are tears in your eyes.

She takes him and holds him close. She stands up and steps away. “Feferi, would you be so kind as to reward Eridan?”

You tense as your ex-moirail, ex-flushcrush steps forward. She touches your hair, your cheek, and puts her hand over your shoulder’s wound. “You shouldn’t have been so foolish, Eridan. I thought you knew better than that, but I guess I was wrong about you in more ways than that.” She heals you. You feel the muscle knitting back together. It’s a pain that brings up half hidden memories of wounds on your chest being healed. Then Feferi is gone. She leaves the room first, followed by Rose.

Rose stops at the door and turns to say over her shoulder, “Equius, I command you to take Eridan to the new room provided for him. It seems freedom only does him damage.”

“Yes, Miss Lalonde.”

“Wait, what?” You get up from your pile. “But I gave him over without a fight!”

Her purple eyes are unreadable as she says, “You cannot be trusted. Equius. Bind him.”

“As you say, Miss Lalonde.”  She smiles and is out the door. “Do not struggle, highblood, I do not wish to damage you more than I must.”

You’re numb. Numb from anger and fear and utter fury. How the fuck dare she.

You offer up your wrists to Equius and he puts iron cuffs on them. You don’t fight him because that’s pointless, you’ll just have broken wrists. But you will get out. And you will fight back.

You will get Caesar back from the human who tricks you.

* * *

_We don’t know how Eridan got a hold of him,_ Rose had told you when she delivered her little orange surprise. Or rather, big orange surprise. He was about as tall as you were when you were ten, but so much lighter. _We had no idea that he had him at all, but now it all makes sense, doesn’t it? Why he never left his room, why he made  enough food for two to eat, why he wanted your sword._

She brought you that sword also. It had been cleaned, but not well enough to get the purple off the guard. Sollux and Vriska had told everyone how he came swooping out of the air and stabbed Eridan in the shoulder. Clearly, Eridan wasn’t a good guardian. The poor Davesprite must have finally gotten away from him. They were lucky to have caught him, saved him from Eridan. Who knows what he was doing to poor Davesprite.

So now you had this orange miniature of your prototyped self on the end of your bed.

He was sleeping, but had been for a while. You sat at the other end of the bed, staring at him. What were you supposed to do with him? He wasn’t you, was he? He didn’t have glasses like you, oh no. He wore a red scarf like Eridan used to wear his blue one.

Slowly, he woke up. He rubbed his eyes, wings flapping, and he looked around. You could tell the moment he realized he wasn’t wherever it was he fell asleep. His wings get pulled in tight and his feathers fluff out. His eyes grow very, very wide. They’re orange, just like the rest of him. “Peep?”

“Yo.” What do you say to a miniature form of your alternate dead prototyped self? “I’m Dave.”

His feathers fluff more. “Peep. Where’s Papa?”

“Uh. Who?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid. “You know him. You talk to him. He says that you notice him. You took his scarf.”

“Oh. Eridan.”

He blinks. “That’s Papa’s name?” He sits back a little, saying the word over and over softly to himself. “Eridan, peep. I didn’t know that was his name.”

“I didn’t take his scarf,” you clarify, “We traded. I gave him a sword for it.”

His eyes widen, “The sword. Oh fuck. Fuck! I stabbed him and now he’s bleeding and-,” He looks around the room. When he doesn’t find whatever he’s looking for he turns around to look at you with narrowed eyes. “Where the fuck is my papa.”

You shrug. “Rose said she locked him up, because of what he did to you.”

“Where is he? Caw!” He starts rising in the air, his wings flapping, “Where is my papa?”

“Chill out, Davesprite. I don’t know where he is.”

“My name isn’t Davesprite! Caw! You might be my genetic ancestor, but Papa is my Lusus! And he named me Caesar!” He’s floating above your bed now, furious and flapping. It would be amusing if you didn’t feel so fucking awful.

“All right, Caesar, whatever your name is. The fact is I don’t know where Eridan is. Rose won’t tell me because she knows that I still care about him.” You bite on the inside of your cheek, “I mean-,”

“I know what you mean, peep.” He glares at you, “Papa says that too. He tries not to show me but I’m young, not stupid! Caw!” he floats back down to the bed and curls his tail up under his arms, as though he was drawing his knees to his chest. He shakes his head and pulls his wings in tight. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh. I can get you some food…”

“I don’t want anything from you. I want my papa. I want him right now!”

“Look, Caesar, I can’t get him for you.”

“Of course you can’t,” he hisses. He’s glaring at you again. It’s so fucking weird to see your ten year old self glaring at you like that, “You can’t help him at all. You’re a liar. A liar and a coward. When you care about someone, you help them! When you care about someone, you protect them! You don’t care! You don’t protect him. He needed someone to protect him and there was only me!”

You lean back. What the fuck? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He scowls. “I’m not telling you anything. You don’t deserve to know! Peep!”

Anger flares up in your chest. You crawl across the bed to him and grab him by the shoulder, “I think I do deserve to know why you are calling me a coward. I have done everything that I can for my friends. I’ve protected them as best as I possibly can. I’m not a hero, kid, I can’t save everyone all the time.”

“Papa didn’t want a hero,” you hear him say through his teeth. He has tears in his eyes. “Papa just wanted someone to make him feel safe. Now let me go, you’re hurting me!”

You let him go with a little shove. “Make him feel safe? This is the safest fucking place left! Jack isn’t here, all his friends are here, what more could he want?”

“Caw! These trolls aren’t his friends!” He fluffs out his feathers and leans in to shout at you, “They could kill him and he can’t stop them! He’s alone and scared and now I can’t protect him either! I don’t know why he cares about you at all! You are a fucking stupid smelly butt!”

You lean back. Sure you’d always seen how Eridan didn’t talk much to the others. You’d seen how he was wary, jumpy, but you figured that was just his personality. No one else ever commented on it. No one ever said a damn thing about him, except to rag on him.

When you blink back to yourself, Caesar’s at the door, pulling it open with a little difficulty.  “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m going to find my papa.”

“But you don’t know where he is!”

He looks over at you and says in a voice that’s so much older than it should be, “That isn’t going to stop me. And if you really do care, it shouldn’t stop you either.” With that, he leaves your room with a flapping of wings.

It doesn’t even take you a minute to join him in the hallway.

* * *

Your wrists are bloody and your fingers chaffed and scraped by the time you get the chains off. They didn’t put any on your ankles because they’re fucking morons.

During the time it took you to get your hands free, you worked yourself up into a proper rage. Everything is tinted red and purple, and dark with your anger. You approach the door they’ve locked you in with cold calculation. You’re a strategist, even if they don’t believe you, and you’re stronger than they think you are.

At first you listen to hear if anyone is outside your room. Silence.

You grip the handle and try to turn it. When the lock resists you, you resist back. There’s a crunch of metal on metal and the handle falls off in your hand. You throw it to the side and push with your shoulder. The door groans, but doesn’t budge.

You back away a few steps and then kick it. You kick the door three times before the lock breaks completely and the door bends in the other direction. You push it open with your shoulder and strength, until it’s wide enough for you to get out.

You move quietly down the hallways, staying near the walls. You have a list of people to kill in your mind and they all deserve their deaths.

The voices you hear in the hall, you don’t recognize for a moment, and then it clicks. Rose. Rose and Dave. She’s the one talking the most.

“You’re being foolish about this. He stole an alternate version of yourself. He cannot be trusted. We already know there is bad blood between him and some of the others. He doesn’t play well. I have heard all the stories.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Rose, if he plays nice with the others or not. This isn’t about you or me or them. This is about fucking Caesar.”

Your chest tightens. Your grub. That bitch stole your grub from your very arms.

She was going to pay.

“You mean miniature Davesprite.”

“My name is fucking Caesar, you imbecile bitch!”

You laugh. You can’t help it. That is one of your very own insults, repeated by your grub. The red rage has begun to fade. His voice sooths you like none other. He’s there. Your grub is there and he’s fine.

“Peep!” You hear a fluttering of wings and an orange feathery body streaks around the corner. He thumps right into your chest, tail wrapping around your waist and arms around your neck. He peeps over and over, not even speaking a word. His wings flutter around you, buffeting your arms and head. “Papa!”

You bury your fingers in the fluff around his neck and your face in the orange of his hair. Your breath comes in hiccups and sniffles, as you hold back your tears. “Cae, my beautiful fuckin’ grub. They didn’t hurt you did they? I will make them bleed if they did.”

He shakes his head, just saying papa and peep over and over. There’s a few muffled caws in there as well. Your little fluffy grub is growing up.

Rose clears her throat. “Well, this is a surprise.”

You look up from your bundle of orange that you’re in charge of and glare at her. Dave steps forward and puts his hand on her shoulder. “Rose…”

She sighs softly and shakes her head. “Dave tells me that he’s not upset at what you’ve done. And after some analysis it seems that...Caesar… is not a twisted, abused, homicidal monster. I apologize. Our conclusions were hastily made on information that was not accurate and quite biased.” She bows slightly, “Forgive me. I will make sure to judge you for your own actions, and not your actions interpreted through those who dislike you from now on.”

You pull Caesar closer. You don’t trust her words. But Dave smiles a little to her and says, “Thanks Rose.” She nods and turns to go. She leans in and whispers something into his ear. She smirks as she leaves. Dave blushes.

Caesar peeps and you loosen your grip on him. He’s rubbing his cheek against your jaw, not paying attention to Dave, but you can’t look away from the human. It’s the first time in so long that he’s looked at you, that he hasn’t fled from your presence.

“Eridan,” he begins hesitantly. “I’m … I’m sorry too.”

You frown at him. “Why. Why are you sorry?”

“When you turned me down I didn’t handle it well at all. I, shit, I just ran off. I couldn’t face you. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think you would be avoiding me and everyone else for something like, well, him.” He gestures to Caesar. Your grub finally has stopped peeping at you and now is watching Dave as well.

He harrumphs, “Papa, Dave still likes you. And I told him you like him. ”

Your fins flare and you look down at him, “Cae, you don’t fuckin’ tell people that!”

He rolls his eyes and mutters, “Stop being stupid, Papa.”

“Ahem,” Dave says, getting your attention again. You give him a weak glare, just for the hell of it. “So I get why you didn’t want to…hang out with me before. But now that I know about him and I’m okay with that, how about you and I and Caesar watch a movie together.”

You debate it internally for a minute or two. Caesar tugs on your ear gently and you wince and look at him, “Yeah?”

“What’s a movie?”

You wince.

“That settles it,” Dave says, “You, me, him and a movie, right now. We can bandage your wrists too so you don’t bleed on my bed. Come on.”

You look down and sigh. Caesar’s excited face is all you need to see to know you’re not going to win if you argue. You follow Dave down the hallway.

* * *

As the credits roll on a movie about somebody named Happy Gilmore---you don’t understand the point of troll movies, so why would human ones be any easier, honestly--- on Dave’s laptop, you lean back with a sigh. Caesar is stretched out across yours and Dave’s lap, snoozing softly. He fell asleep somewhere towards the middle, and when Dave tried to wake him to watch, you put your hand on the human’s to stop him.

You ended up holding hands for the rest of the movie.

Now it was over and the room was dark and quiet, except for the music. Dave squeezes your hand for your attention. The credits are reflected in his glasses. “Eridan?”

“Mm?”

He leans in slowly. Your bloodpusher begins to hammer wildly in your chest. You know where this is going. Just before his lips touch yours, you put your hand up so his mouth rests against your fingertips. “Wait,” you whisper.

“What is it?” his words are muffled, “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s just-,” you don’t know how to explain, so you pull your hand away and lift it up. You tap your fingers on the edge of his glasses, “I want to see your eyes.”

“Oh. Is that all?” He smiles. Dave reaches up and lifts his glasses until they rest in his blond hair. His eyes are dark red. You never thought you’d like someone with red eyes before, but then there really wasn’t anyone like Dave, was there?

He leans in again and kisses you.

You kiss back, very softly, letting your eyes close, letting your lips turn up in a smile, and letting yourself relax. He kisses you, his shoulder pressed against yours and with Caesar on your lap.

He kisses you and you feel safe.


End file.
